by Alan Black
Grace was surprised. She and Clayton had often been to neighbor’s homes where mothers had to threaten beatings to get their children to wash before a meal. This twelve-year-old girl had done so without a word being spoken about it. She was more convinced than ever that Art and Clare were raising LillieBeth right, even though the young woman was more mature than her age would suggest.
Grace said, “I guess we can let it go this time.”
LillieBeth smiled, “Just this time? I think I have at least one more smart mouth comment in me. Daddy says the spring in my mind between the sassy part of the brain and my mouth must have been sprung at birth.”
“Well then, just direct your smart comments at another adult. That way I can ignore it.”
“I can do that… I think. I fed the horses and brushed them all down. I have my mare saddled, and Fletch is on a lead and ready to go. I saddled Jezebel for you and turned Delilah loose into the pasture for the day. No sense in going to town all day and leaving her stuck in a bare corral.”
“You aren’t going to ride Fletch into town?”
LillieBeth said, “I thought I would let him start resting up for his… you know… his husbandly duties.”
Grace smiled. “You can’t weigh anymore than a hundred pounds if you were carrying five pounds of rocks in your pockets. Fletch could carry a little bit of a thing like you to California and back before he got too tired for stud service.”
LillieBeth smiled. “Well, I did leave my friendship stones at home. I set them out on Mr. Hoffman’s grave as a reminder of him. I do have my granite heart in my saddlebags though, as a reminder to track down Trance Braunawall. And I have the heaviest rock of all in my own heart, but God does not weigh that much in spite of how heavy He is. So, I do not have any rocks in my pockets… yet.”
Grace pulled the bacon off the stove and began sprinkling flour into the grease for gravy.
LillieBeth said. “That smells good. We have not had bacon much and I do just love the smell.”
Grace stopped, took a heartbeat, and then went back to stirring the gravy as it thickened. She knew the Hazkits had been living from meal to meal since Art went off to the War to End All Wars and with work so hard to come by after the war, they had barely improved their living conditions even after he came back.
She and Clayton should have done more. She did not know what more they could have done. Clayton made a good wage as the sheriff of Oasis. He made almost a hundred dollars a week for full time law work. That was a lot, but it was dangerous work. The danger wasn’t anything Clayton had not been able to handle until the Braunawalls and their kin murdered him. A hundred dollars a week was much more than most men earned, but even in these times it only went so far and there was a lot of need in this part of the hills.
It was true LillieBeth changed everything for the Hazkits in the last few weeks, taking them from poverty to one of the more well-to-do in the area. And the changes were not for her family alone; her decision to make a friend of Fletcher Marlowe Hoffman had set off a chain of events affecting the whole community.
LillieBeth would not have met the Buckners if she had not been on the road to Hoffman’s place. She would not have directed them to the Schmitt place, giving Fern and Magnolia two new beaus, although Grace was holding her judgment on Steve Buckner for now. The young girl would not have been on the road to Hoffman’s place and been attacked by Trance and Dangle Braunawall. It was not LillieBeth’s fault. But, if she had not been there, then she would not need Hoffman to rescue her from their clutches. The Braunawalls would not have had any reason to murder Hoffman if he had not beaten them while saving the young girl.
Susanne Harbowe would not have confessed her own rape at the hand of the Braunawalls if LillieBeth had not first spoken of the attack on herself. Susanne would not have been fired from her teaching job and turned out of her home in shame if she had not felt the need to reveal the rape to someone.
Clayton would not have arrested the Braunawalls if they had not murdered Hoffman. And they in turn would not have murdered Clayton and shot Art Hazkit to avoid jail and hanging. Grace did not blame LillieBeth for Clayton’s death. She set off the course of events that led to his murder, but she was no more to blame than a thunderstorm was to blame for the lightning that set the forest ablaze. Trance and Dangle Braunawall were to blame. They were aided by their Uncle Zeke and two cousins. Dangle and his cousin Ike were dead, but Trance was not. Zeke and Abe Braunawall may be guilty of aiding in Clayton’s murder, or they may not be. She would find out the truth. She would track them down, hunting and scouring the Ozarks to lay justice where it rightly belonged.
She already knew the truth about Trance. She would find him and hand deliver justice to him.
MONDAY - MIDMORNING
Grace slid off the back of Jezebel. It was not a ladylike dismount. No matter how hard she tried, she could not find any way to get off a horse in a genteel manner. She thought it might be easier to dismount if she rode sidesaddle. She had never even tried riding sidesaddle as it looked like an uncomfortable way to sit on a horse.
She watched LillieBeth leap to the ground with youthful exuberance and an uncaring attitude about being ladylike. Grace envied the girl’s attitude, not her age, strength, or flexibility. Grace still felt young in those areas, but she missed the ability not to care what others thought of her.
LillieBeth shrugged to make her revolver’s shoulder holster sit more comfortably across her frame. She pulled the lever action rifle from the tie-down on the saddle rigging, checking the chamber and safety. She held it casually in the crook of her arm as if it were a part of her own body.
Grace said, “Are you sure you need those guns in town?
LillieBeth shook her head. “No, Mrs. Grissom. But, I would rather have them and not need them, than need them and not have them.”
The stable was set much higher than the corrals and the corrals were on higher ground than the street. There were two small fenced-in corrals in front of the main barn, with an open lane wide enough for a wagon, leading to the barn door separating the two corrals. The two women had dismounted in the lane.
Odie stepped out of the stable’s barn. Looking steadfastly at the ground, he said, “Good Monday to you ladies.” In spite of his demeanor, his voice sounded quite pleased to see them. “Mrs. Grissom, God bless your heart. I’m so sorry to hear about Mr. Grissom. He was one of the bestest mens I ever met. I’m sure God has welcomed him with open arms.”
Grace said, “Thank you, Odie. Do you know Miss LillieBeth Hazkit?”
Odie grinned at the dirt. “Knows her? Mrs. Grissom, I’d a sworn she was part and parcel of the Archangel Michael’s army of angels, and since angels come and go at God’s pleasure, I never expected to see her again, but here she is. Why, she and Miss Harbowe were here last week and blessed this very stable with their presence!”
LillieBeth snorted, “Mr. Washington, my Mama would wash my mouth out with soap for telling such a whopper. I am a long way from an angel. I sometimes wonder if I am even a good Christian.”
Odie shook his head. “Not me, Miss. I knows Miss Harbowe is an earthly angel for… well… for-”
“For all that she does for you and your family?” LillieBeth interrupted with a suggestion.
Grace wondered what Susanne Harbowe did for Odie and his family that was such a secret the man would not speak of it in public. She had known him for many years, but it appeared he did not trust her with everything happening in his life. She was curious and might remember to ask LillieBeth later, but she wouldn’t push. There were a lot of things that could go on between a black man and a white woman that were not for public broadcasting. She knew there would be nothing untoward or unsavory; Susanne was not that type of woman. Yet even sharing a meal could bring public condemnation down on friends.
She gave herself a mental head slap. She forgot to bring Clayton’s clothes for Odie. Looking at him, she was sure he was almost the same size as her late husband. He might not have
use for Clayton’s suit or his frocked preaching coat, but there were some work clothes that should be useful.
Odie smiled in answer to LillieBeth’s comment. “Yes, Miss Hazkit, for exactly all she does for my family. But you, well… only an avenging angel of God could hunt down them Dangle and Ike Braunawall fellas, chasing ‘em into Old Scratch’s own lair and then sending them to meet their maker without laying a hand on either one of ‘em.”
Grace looked at LillieBeth with amusement. “You went into the devil’s own lair?”
LillieBeth nodded as if facing down the devil was of no consequence. “I went into Samson’s Boarding House for Young Ladies.”
Grace was startled, her amusement evaporated. “Good Lord! Does your Mama know you went into a… house of ill repute?”
“Daddy does and I suppose Mama does by now, since they do not keep secrets from each other for very long, or at least none I have been able to catch them at.”
“Why would you go inside such a place?”
LillieBeth looked surprised. “Why would I not? Mrs. Samson was helpful and nice for a… a… well, you know what. But, I was hunting the Braunawalls. Where else would I expect to find them? I look in trees when I am hunting squirrels; I do not look in the river.”
Odie said, “See Mrs. Grissom? She’s as bold as one of God’s own.”
Grace said, “Yes, Odie. I can certainly see that.”
“Would you ladies like to board your horses for the evening? I see you rode Jezebel to town. How is Solomon’s hock healing up?”
“Solomon has healed up very well. Thank you for the poultice you gave Mr. Grissom. We’d like to leave our horses here for a while, but I don’t know if we will be staying the night or moving on later.”
“Even if it be for a short while, we’ll treat ‘em right. Them Belgians of your’n are all fine horses. I’d pay good money to see ‘em in a four-up. Of course, these here horses Miss Hazkit has are mighty fine as well. I do recognize this big Missouri Fox Trotter stallion. Mr. Hoffman bought him at an auction down at Mountain Home last year. Brought him by here on the way to the Hoffman place… I mean the Hazkit place… sorry, Miss.”
LillieBeth nodded.
Grace knew Odie had not looked at them directly. Even though the man would not look at a white woman, he did not miss much. He might have missed LillieBeth’s nod, but she doubted if he had. She said, “We’ll all call it the Hoffman place for a while. Having the Hazkits on the place will take some getting used to.”
Odie said, “That there mare is one of Hoffman’s herd. I recognized the bloodlines right away. She looks to be a good mare and will come ready to put to breeding soon. You’uns not planning on mixing this here Missouri Fox Trotter with this blooded quarter horse?”
Grace almost laughed. Odie sounded as if they were committing sacrilege even to think of such a thing. “No, Odie, but we did want to put the stallion out to stud, if you know of someone.”
“Mister Alex Mendelson up toward Jefferson City would pay top dollar. I have the number to the general store up that away to get him a message, if you want. That’d be who I call if’n I had a stallion like this.” He ran his hands over Fletch, feeling the strength in the horse’s legs and flanks. “I knows a feller up east of Branson who’d buy him off you for good money, but if you just want stud fees at an honest price, call on Mr. Mendelson.”
Grace made a mental note of the name. “I would like that number to call him. Mendelson? Is he a Jewish man?”
Odie shrugged as if it did not matter. “A horseman is a horseman, Mrs. Grissom.” He waved his hand as if waving off a pesky black fly.
LillieBeth pointed at Odie’s wrist. “Mr. Washington, I have never seen such a pretty bracelet before.” The bracelet was braided horsehair. One twist of the braid was Palomino blonde, one twist was the bluish color of a roan, and one twist was red. A small figure of a horse was carved from dark wood and the braid was twisted around it to hold it in.
Odie smiled in thanks and said, “My grandfather was born a slave. He learned all about horses from his owner and he taught my father. My father taught me. My grandfather braided this from three different horse tails and he carved this little charm hisself.” He twisted his arm, flashing all sides of the bracelet. “I’m teaching my sons all I know about horses and someday I want to give this to my oldest boy, just as I gives him all I know. It reminds us of where we come from and what we do to get us where we’re going.”
LillieBeth reached out and grabbed Odie’s wrist, staring at the bracelet.
Odie froze.
“Hey, boy!” a voice shouted out. “You let go of that white girl.”
LillieBeth spun around and stared at the three men standing by the corral fence. “You seem to be confused, sir. It is not your place to speak for me.”
The man said, “I don’t need your permission to speak up when I see something wrong. We don’t need any frisky darkies in these hills. I can see this one needs a lesson in manners.”
LillieBeth smiled. She slipped open a gate in the fence and walked across the corral toward the men. “Sir, if I wanted to speak to someone about horses, I would call on Mister Odie Washington.” The girl emphasized the word ‘mister’ as she gestured behind her at the two standing there. “If I wanted to speak to someone about mules, I would talk with Garrett McCalley over in Dark Hollow. If I wanted to speak about jackasses, then I might call on you.”
“You have a smart mouth on you for such a young girl.”
LillieBeth laughed, glanced at Grace and then back at the man. “That would be the second time I have been told that today…” Her voice trailed away.
Grace saw LillieBeth stoop down, pick up a small rock and toss it to the man. It was a quick swooping motion, graceful for such a young girl, even one not prone to the usual preteen awkwardness.
Startled, the man caught the rock just before it sailed past his shoulder. “Wha-”
LillieBeth caught him in mid-word. She flipped the rifle from its resting position, levered a cartridge into the magazine, thumbed off the safety, and jammed the muzzle into the man’s neck just under the chin with enough force to slam his mouth shut. She had to reach up, as the man was taller than her five foot height and she had to reach through the corral fence, but it was enough to force the man’s eyes skyward.
The girl said, “Mrs. Grissom, would you step over here, please.”
Grace was shocked at LillieBeth’s sudden violence. She had heard the stories of how she had shot the gangster from Chicago, how she beat the Braunawalls, and even how she threatened the Carvers and Steve Buckner. But, she had never seen such swift action from any adult and certainly never from such a tiny person of LillieBeth’s tender age. She could not imagine why a few, ignorant racist insults would justify threatening a man with a loaded gun.
The man froze in place; his eyes wide with fear. When he heard LillieBeth call her Mrs. Grissom the blood drained from his face. His two companions moved back a step, but they did not run.
Grace walked up behind LillieBeth. She did not want to startle the girl as she could see LillieBeth’s finger was quivering on the trigger in anticipation of shooting the man.
“LillieBeth, I don’t understand.”
LillieBeth glared at the man. “Mrs. Grissom, would you please relieve this man of the gun he has in his waistband?”
“I don’t understand,” Grace repeated.
LillieBeth commanded, “Take his gun and look at it.” Her voice was stern and cold as if she would not tolerate any disobedience.
Grace looked at the man. “I’m sorry, sir. Let me see your gun and we can get this situation resolved.”
The man started to say something, but LillieBeth jabbed him under the chin again in warning. He kept quiet. Grace reached through the fence, slid the gun free and pulled it close to look at it. It was an old Colt Peacemaker with most of the bluing rubbed off. It had new rubber grips and the front sight was broken down to nothing more than a jagged short nub.
> Grace looked into the man’s face. “Where did you get this gun?”
LillieBeth eased the pressure on the muzzle giving the man the chance to speak.
“I… um… I found it.”
Grace said, “Where-”
“What is your name, sir?” LillieBeth interrupted.
“Abraham. I’m Abe Braunawall.” The man must have been feeling confident with the pressure of the muzzle eased up on his neck. “You got no right to be threatening me.”
LillieBeth laughed. It was a laugh with no edge of humor. “This rifle is not a threat. It is a promise.”
MONDAY – NOON
Grace looked at the gun she had taken from Abe Braunawall. There was no doubt in her mind this was Clayton’s gun. She’d cleaned it often enough to recognize it. She’d even used her hammer and anvil to straighten the broken front sight. Her eyes misted over thinking of Clayton. She shook her head, clearing her mind and her eyes.
She looked at Abe Braunawall; she had to look down as she was taller than he was. He was one of the men who aided Trance and Dangle in escaping from custody. He looked more like a weasel than Trance or Dangle. Those boys were handsome and well shaped. This man must have taken after his mother’s side of the family.
Since Clayton had been shot by his own gun there was only one way Abe came by it. Trance or Dangle had given it to him after murdering her husband with it. She cocked the hammer and pressed the muzzle against the tip of Abe Braunawall’s nose. She did not trust herself even to touch the trigger; she rested her finger lightly on the trigger guard.
LillieBeth pulled her rifle away from the man. She walked backwards toward Fletch, keeping the rifle pointed in the general direction of Braunawall’s two companions. She quickly pulled something from her saddlebags and raced back. She climbed up on the corral rail, sitting comfortably on the top bar resting the rifle in her lap with the muzzle pointed at Braunawall’s companions with clear intent.
